The Most Happy
by Zoisy
Summary: Dancing slowly in an empty room,  Can the lonely take the place of you?


_To all my dear readers,_

_this is a quite dreary one-shot, inspired by the beautiful Christina Perri & her gorogeous song "The lonely" (/watch?v=a9YQPWqTnx4)_

_Dedicated to another beautiful lady: Anne Boleyn. Enjoy :)_

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><p><strong>The Most Happy<strong>

She had been waiting all day. Standing right in front of to the windowsill, attentively observing the tower's inner yard while she dug her itching fingers into the impenetrable stonewalls. It's been an uncommonly hot mayday; the sun had been burning all noon, until darkness slowly begun to fall. There was a melancholy purple lining on the horizon, far beyond the insuperable brick-laying. Her eyes were fixed on the endless diamond sky, which increasingly turned into a star spangled carpet of deep blue. She let rest one hand on her jerkily lifting chest, since her heart had started to beat faster. _Did you forget me, my love? Don't believe in these terrible rumors. All these accusations against me were set by my enemies, who like to bewilder your sweet mind. Henry, you know that I'm telling the truth!_

She slightly turned away, trying to get used to the sudden darkness around her. She, Anne Boleyn, Queen of All England, imprisoned in the Tower of London. There had been fiends all around at court, as well as she was aware that her fastly soared star could fall in the same way. Why all this wickedness? There was no guild she had to confess. And now, she was all alone, whereas the King, himself, did betray her. After her second miscarriage he had finally given up on his most desperate desire, the birth on heir to the throne, the son, she couldn't deliver him. There was going to be a new lady at Hampton Court- Jane Seymour. Rumors. The same rumors which brought her here, into the Tower, made her dwell on painful thoughts. But still she was the King's wife and if she had to die, she would die a Queen. Anne Boleyn, the whore, Anne Boleyn for whom the king had torn a whole kingdom apart, wouldn't duck away in the face of death. She sighed. He would not set her free. He turned away from justice, turned away from their love.

"We prepared your majesty a small dinner." Her lady's hoarse voice did jolt her out of her thoughts. "No, thank you, I am not in the mood of having dinner tonight, for I'm not hungry at all." The lady in waiting turned away from her to get on with her activities. The Queen leaned against the window frame again, examining the night-sky. . "What a beautiful night, don't you think so, my maidens?" Her servants nodded approvingly. "Well, it's a truly beautiful summer's night." She closed her eyes, soaking in the chilly evening air, flavoured of freedom and hope. _Happiness_...bygone happiness pierced through her very heart and made her shiver in agony. Her hands trembled as they were clinging on the cold and stony sill. "Happiness..." she whispered, almost unnoticed.

Then she saw him. A sudden movement right beneath her accommodation, a dark shade straightly crossing the court-yard, briefly gazing at her unreachable location, obviously trying to hide from the guards all around. She could not quite consider who this person might be, until there was someone opening the heavy wooden gate, for some prisoners to enter the Tower. A light cone brightened the stranger and she recognized Thomas Boleyn. He didn't say a single world, nor did his features change their forms in any way. He just looked upon her, regarding her dead eyes. And so her father left her. Forever.

Finally she turned her back on the outerworld, and made her way through the gloomy room. Her ladies were waiting for her to rest, but she was so full of joy, full of life, a strange impulse, she hadn't sensed for a long time by now. And for the very first time in her life she smacked the taste of true freedom. Neither being her father's observant puppet nor the king's devout wife anymore. Her limbs felt weightless, as she started a slow dance through the bleak darkness.

The tower walls disappeared instantly; instead there was a noble dancing-hall, with people all around her, the court, ambassadors from overseas. "Make way for the lady Anne." A familiar voice burst through the hubbub. She looked up, spying her husband, the King, crossing the room. She bowed deeply, as he took her frail featured hand in his and kissed it gently. She smiled at him, without replying to his appreciations. The audition stopped whispering and stared as the splendid couple led the dance. The mighty Tudor sovereign and his Queen turned around in a swirl of joy and pure delight. She laughed, not the frantic, forced laugh she used to give out during the countless receptions she had to do representative, but an honest laugh from deep within her soul. He spun her around briskly as they were sliding into the vortex of amusement and demonstration of power. The royal couple was giving a ball, and they were happy, for everyone to see.

They shook their heads in disapproval as she crossed the room again and again. She was dancing the dance of a lunatic, yes, the Queen of England had eventually lost her mind. But they would never be going to understand what these last hours in the Tower meant to their mistress, in which way they opened her eyes, how they stole her fears of death and suffering. This real fantasy took away her sorrow and gave her strength and dignity. She spun around again and again, having her eyes closed, a satisfied smile on her rosy lips. When she collapsed beside the ancient wooden chair her slender back started to shake unsteadly, as she sounded a silent sobbing. Bitter-sweet pain, that only she could fully understand. _The most happy._


End file.
